


#55

by f_femslash



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_femslash/pseuds/f_femslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt over at my tumblr, faberizona-femslash for a Callie/Alex crossover. Callie ends up at Litchfield, and Alex and Nicky agree to a bet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#55

“Gay.”   
“Nuh uh,” Nicky kicks Alex’s leg under the table, and Alex grins at her.   
“Yeah, man, I’m calling it. We’ve got a live one.”   
“You are delusional, Vause. No way in hell we’d get that lucky.”  
“What are you two fighting about now?” Morello drops her tray onto the table next to Nicky and takes a seat.  
“Have you seen the new girl?” Nicky points over her shoulder with her chin, where the object of discussion sits staring at her food like it’s going to jump up and bite her. Lorna tries to turn around and look casually without staring too obviously.   
“Oh yeah,” Lorna says as she turns back around dismissively, “I drove her up from processing.”  
“Did she say anything? Vause thinks she’s a lady lover, I say no way would we get that lucky.” Nicky shrugs off the sharp look Lorna gives her and waits for an answer.  
“No, Nicky, she didn’t say anything. She was as quiet as the rest of them. But even if she is batting for your team, the two of you should stay out of it. You hear me? Vause? Alex!”  
Alex has been ignoring the conversation in favor of staring over Morello’s shoulder at the new inmate’s loose brown curls and full, rounded curves. She snaps back to Lorna at the sound of her name.  
“What?”  
“Jets and Sharks don’t mix well, Vause. Find a new playmate to distract you from Chapman.”   
Alex narrows her eyes at the mention of Piper. She’s been gone for months, her year up even without the “good time” deduction after the Pennsatucky drama. Alex doesn’t appreciate the reminder of Piper’s freedom and impending nuptials. She considers throwing Pipes’ real wedding in the face of Lorna’s façade, but lets it go.   
“I’ll make sure you don’t get caught up in any rumbles, okay?” She picks up her tray and stands, turning toward the trashcan.  
“Ten bucks commissary says you’re wrong, Vause,” Nicky calls after her. Alex turns back as she throws away her tray.  
“You’re on.”  
*  
Alex doesn’t expect to see the new inmate anytime soon. Paperwork takes forever to process, and usually it takes a week or two for new inmates to get long term bunk assignments and jobs.   
But later that same day, as she’s folding linens in the laundry room, she hears big clunking CO boots enter the basement and then she’s there, New Inmate, and Alex learns that her name is Torres.  
Before she can even come up with an excuse for talking to her, the other “Spanish tribe” members pull her into their corner. Alex wonders if Lorna has a point, but works silently for the rest of the day, trying to overhear and understand the stream of Spanish conversation going on on the other side of the washing machines.   
That night, though, Alex is lying in her bunk when she sees Torres walk past her cubicle on the way to the showers. She jumps up, grabs her toothbrush and her extra pair of shower shoes, and follows her.   
All of the showers are full, but Torres is the only one in line when Alex enters the bathroom. She walks over to her and leans casually against the tiled wall.  
“Here, you definitely want to wear these.” She holds out the shoes. Torres looks down at them, then up at Alex in surprise.  
“Oh, thank you, but no, I couldn’t.”   
Alex can’t help but grin, “I’m serious, take them. Someone did the same for me. And you don’t want to deal with the fungus otherwise.”   
Barely concealed horror passes over Torres’ face, and she finally reaches out and takes the shoes.  
“Thank you,” she pauses, then smiles, and Alex is enchanted. “I’m Callie.”  
“Alex. Or, Vause. Everyone will you call by your last name.”  
Callie smiles and nods, “That’s okay. I’m used to it from work anyway.”  
Alex raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Are you a cop or…?” A thousand ridiculous sexual fantasies fly through her mind, but Callie laughs.  
“No, I’m a surgeon. Or I was.”   
Alex immediately bites her lip. New ridiculous sexual fantasies flood her mind.  
“Oh, wow,” is all that manages to come out of her mouth. Then Taystee shuts off one of the showers and emerges with her mumu sticking to her wet skin.   
“Hey, Vause. What the fuck are you doing hanging out in the shower line?” She throws her towel over her shoulder as she steps out of the stall, and Torres steps into it cautiously, feet shod in Alex’s shoes.   
Alex holds up her toothbrush, and grins slyly at Torres as she’s pulling the shower curtain closed. Taystee raises a skeptical eyebrow at Alex as she and her completely dry toothbrush exit the bathroom, sly grin still firmly in place.  
*  
It’s spring, finally, and Alex is sprawled under the tree where Piper used to eat breakfast. She’s not surprised to find it doesn’t bother her to be here without the blonde. Each day without her has become easier and easier.  
She puts her headphones in and stares up at the blue sky and sunlight filtering through the leaves above, and then lets her eyes close, her linked hands under her head. She has the radio tuned to the oldies station, and Cecilia plays loud in her ears. I’m down on my knees, I’m begging you please to come home. She could be anywhere, she could be on a beach in Bali, in her backyard in Northampton, anywhere.  
A shadow falls across her face and she opens her eyes. Callie stands over her, a tentative smile on her face. Alex smiles and pulls one earbud out of her ear.   
“Hey, you,” she half sits up and gestures to the space beside her. Callie lowers herself gracefully on to the grass.  
“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” she says, gesturing to the radio. Alex shakes her head.  
“Of course not, I’m just enjoying the sun.”  
Callie nods, “My old roommate and I, when we were upset, we would put on some music and dance it out in our underwear.”  
Alex raises an eyebrow and grins, “Now that’s something I’d like to see.”  
Callie gave her a small, knowing smile, and Alex’s stomach flips. Guess I just made ten bucks.   
“So what’s a nice looking surgeon like you doing here?” Alex tries not to wince at how much the question sounds like a pick up line.  
Callie sighs, leans back against the trunk of the tree and looks at Alex out of the corner of her eye.  
“It’s a long story.”  
“We’ve got time,” Alex says with a smile. Callie rolls her eyes.  
“Malpractice suit gone wrong, involving federally funded medical research. What about you?”  
“I worked for an international drug cartel,” Alex says, and can’t keep that same old charming tone from creeping back into her voice. Callie laughs.   
“No way.”  
“Is that so hard to believe?” Alex asks, but she laughs too.   
“You know any good dance stations?” Callie asks, eyeing the cheap plastic radio.   
Alex shakes her head but spins the dial, listening for something suitable. The college station is playing the Red Hot Chili Peppers. She unplugs her headphones and turns up the volume, letting the sound play out of the radio’s pathetic, tinny speaker. She stands and holds a hand out to Callie.  
“Come on, Torres. Dance it out.”   
It isn’t lost on her, dancing with Torres after what had happened the last time she’d danced with someone here. They start out dancing apart, laughing, but Alex can’t keep herself from putting her hands on Callie’s hips and pulling her closer. It isn’t exactly dance music, but it will do. Tell me baby, what’s your story?   
Callie’s hips move against hers, and Alex can see that this really does do her some good. She can feel her physically relaxing under her hands, drawing closer and closer to Alex. They look at each other, exchanging playful and not so playful expressions, Callie’s hands reaching up to tangle in Alex’s hair.  
“Inmates!” The voice is shrill and nervous, and Alex turns to see Fischer crossing the yard at a barely contained gallop. She reaches over and snaps the radio off. Callie has leapt away from her and is shakily straightening her uniform as if they’d been fucking and not just doing some mostly innocent dancing.   
“You’re out of line, Vause!” Alex is relieved she hasn’t called Callie out as well.   
“I’m sorry, CO,” Alex widens her eyes innocently. She isn’t concerned. Fischer is a pushover.  
“You know there’s no touching, and you need to use your headphones if you want to listen to music,” Fischer sounds like a kindergarten teacher scolding a five year old.  
“You’re right, CO, I’m sorry,” Alex repeats, glancing at Callie out of the corner of her eye. She looks terrified.  
“Next time, I’ll have to write you a shot, and you know I don’t want to do that.”  
Alex nods. Fischer turns to Callie and gives her a “that goes for you, too” look, then turns and walks toward the track. As soon as she was out of ear shot, Alex starts laughing. She grabs Callie’s wrist.  
“Hey, relax. Fischer’s harmless. I don’t think she’s written up a single inmate yet, and she’s been here for almost a year.”   
Callie frees her hand and steps away.  
“I really can’t get into any more trouble,” she says, “Thanks for the music.”   
Alex watches her walk away, frowning.   
*  
Alex sees doesn’t see Callie for a few days, except in the laundry room, where she keeps her distance. Alex can’t stop looking at her, and she catches Callie looking back more than once. And then one day she’s gone.  
At first Alex doesn’t know where to turn for information, but the prison rumor mill quickly solves the problem for her.  
“I heard about your girl, Vause. Too bad.” Poussey is waiting in the phone line when Alex passes by. She stops short and turns back to her.  
“What did you hear?”   
“You don’t know? Damn. She got sent out to Seattle to testify at some trial. She didn’t tell you?”   
“She’s not my girl,” Alex says, and continues down the hall. How had that rumor even started? They’d only had a handful of conversations. She blamed Nicky, and lay down on her bunk, sulking up at the ceiling.   
Callie could be gone for weeks. Maybe she wouldn’t even come back. Maybe it’ll be easier, and less painful, to just get over it now. Just let it go.  
Alex grabs her radio and headphones, and scans through the stations, settling on the college station. As a Regina Spektor song fades out, the sharp chords of a familiar Chili Peppers song blare into her ears. Tell me baby, what’s your story?  
Alex’s eyes flew open and she stared at the ceiling.  
Fuck.   
*  
It takes a month for Callie to come back. A month and two days, but Alex refuses to acknowledge how closely she’s been noting the passing days. In fact, she notes inwardly as she sits back against library bookshelves, she hasn’t thought about her almost all day. She doesn’t point out to herself that she’s just voided her efforts by acknowledging the fact, only rises to her feet and sets her glasses on top of her head as she moves to tuck a cheap romance novel back in its place on the shelf.   
She’s barely turned around before she catches sight of Callie in her periphery. She almost dismisses it as her mind playing tricks on her, and then looks again, and she’s definitely there. Alex freezes.  
Callie looks thin, and it disappoints Alex to see sharper angles in her face, less hip to hold on to. These thoughts are pushed away when Alex realizes how ragged she looks, like she’s spent the past month on the edge of some kind of emotional cliff. She’s in those awful temporary orange scrubs again, and the color clashes with her ashen skin.   
“Ca-Torres, hey, are you okay?” Alex finally says, and she’s surprised that her voice can sound so casually concerned in this moment.  
Callie opens her mouth to answer, but stalls. Instead she closes the space between them in two strides, grabs Alex’s face with both hands and presses their lips together. Alex hears her glasses clatter to the ground behind her, and then their lips are moving, and Alex’s hands are on Callie’s hips, her heart hammering, their bodies pressing together like they’ve been doing it for years.   
Callie breaks the kiss after a long moment, breathing hard.  
“Is there somewhere…where can we go?”   
Alex looks at her for a moment, wondering if she should call this off now, feeling her options tug at different parts of her. Then she decides.  
“Follow me.”  
She has to remind herself to walk at a casual pace, her pulse still jumpy, as she leads the way. Callie keeps a long distance between them and has to greet other inmates as they realize she’s returned.   
Alex finally pulls the door of the chapel open and pokes her head in, before slipping inside. Callie, Alex is relieved to find out, is smart enough to wait several minutes before following. Alex scopes out the room, looking for lurking inmates doing maintenance, cleaning, or God knows what. But it’s empty, and silent, and Alex is standing upstage of the altar when the door clicks open and Callie steps inside.   
It’s a long, awkward moment as they stare at each other from opposite ends of the chapel, and while Callie makes her way to the platform that the altar sits on. Alex meets her at one end of the wooden table that makes up the altar, licking her lips nervously.   
Then they kiss again, and Alex forgets to be awkward. Her hands tangle in Callie’s hair, and she turns them so she can press her against the altar, their hips meeting. Callie moans against her lips, and Alex knows she needs more. She grabs the ugly orange uniform top and tugs it over Callie’s head, ridding her of the ancient prison bra in the same motion. She palms one breast, her thumb teasing an already erect nipple, and Callie’s head falls back.   
Alex lowers her lips to the opposite nipple and sucks it into her mouth, tugging with her teeth. Callie moans again, and Alex slips her fingers underneath the waistband of the prison granny pants and orange pants, and tugs them both down, pushing Callie back until she’s sitting on the altar. She knows their time is limited, but she wants so badly to slow down, so she does, allowing herself one long moment to look down at the deeply tanned skin, the round curves of Callie’s body. She’s surprised to see a cesarean scar on her belly, but she doesn’t waste time with questions. She stands between Callie’s legs and kisses her deeply, pressing against her.   
Callie breaks away to tug Alex’s shirt over her head, and Alex tosses her bra on the ground. Callie presses her own lips to Alex’s breasts, teases her nipples with her tongue until Alex’s hips are bumping against the insides of Callie’s thighs. She slips her hand between them and circles Callie’s clit with her fingers, and Callie gasps, her hands going behind her to support her as she leans back on the altar. Alex teases her clit until Callie’s hips are bucking, then she lowers herself to her knees and slides her tongue along Callie’s slit.  
“Fuck, Alex,” Callie hisses, “Please…”  
Alex raises an eyebrow and looks up at her from between her legs, then sucks on her clit.  
“Alex! God! I want you inside me, please, please.”  
Normally Alex would make a girl beg for far longer, but Callie’s desperation sounds in her voice, and Alex obliges, sliding two fingers inside Callie and curling them against her. Callie cries out, then claps a hand over her mouth and falls back against the table, writhing and arching her back under Alex’s practiced hand.   
Alex can already feel her muscles tightening around her fingers, and sucks hard on Callie’s clit until she’s coming hard, soaking Alex’s hand and sobbing into her own.   
Alex expects her to be limp and spent, but when she stands, Callie is already sitting and tugging Alex forward by her waistband.   
“I want to see you come,” she breathes, sliding her hand into Alex’s pants and moaning softly at the wetness she finds there. Alex’s hips bump against the edge of the table as she moves against Callie’s fingers. “Do you want me inside you?”   
Alex moans and nods, unused to the tables being turned. She isn’t usually the one who begs, but Callie’s finger is pressing on her clit and suddenly she’s an old pro.  
“Oh, God, fuck, yes,” her hips seem to have a mind of their own as they buck against the table, “Please! Callie please!”  
Callie’s face is predatory, territorial, and she waits with her finger teasing Alex’s clit until Alex is practically panting in frustration.   
“Please! Callie, fuck me, please…” her voice cracks, but these seem to be the magic words. Callie pushes two fingers inside her and begins thrusting into her immediately. Alex’s hands fall to the altar on either side of Callie’s thighs, her head falling onto her shoulder and she moans. She feels Callie’s lips press into her temple, her shoulder, and then her palm is grinding against her clit and Alex is coming, hard, but Callie doesn’t stop until Alex is coming again, her legs shaking and threatening to collapse.   
Callie slides off the table and lowers them both to the ground carefully, her arms around Alex. Alex realizes she’s crying, and looks up to see Callie is , too. Mortified, she wipes at her eyes and is surprised to find her glasses have stayed on her face throughout the encounter.  
Callie wipes at her own tears, then stares at the wall. Alex stares at the same spot.  
“So Seattle was bad.”  
Callie snorts and starts pulling her clothes toward her.  
“Pretty much couldn’t have been worse.”  
Alex wants to ask about the scar on her stomach, the child it implies. But she just waits.  
Callie pulls her top back on, then gives up and leans against the altar.   
“I started my sentence a year ago. This trial’s been going on forever, a lawsuit against the hospital I worked for.” She paused for a long time.  
“My wife…” Alex tried to conceal her surprise, but couldn’t keep from looking at her.   
“My ex-wife,” Callie corrected, “still works there. She won’t see me, not since I was arrested. Which is fine. I mean, it’s not fine, it’s…well, anyway, she won’t let me see my daughter.”  
Alex doesn’t know what to say, so she grabs Callie’s hand. Callie starts to cry again, and Alex puts her arms around her. Callie buries her face in her bare shoulder.  
“I’m scared I’ll never see her again…I’ve already missed more than a year, and who is going to give custody to a felon? And now I’m on the other side of the country and I don’t know what to do.”   
Alex lets her cry it out, because there’s nothing to do. Neither of them have any rights to speak of, and they both know it. She thinks about her own parents, her asshole of a dad and her mom.   
“You’re her mom, Callie. You’re still her mom on the other side of the country.” It’s a stupid thing to say. It doesn’t mean anything, and if she had been in Callie’s shoes and Callie had said the same to her, she’d be politely trying to get as far the fuck away as she could from the human Hallmark card.   
But Callie doesn’t do that. She sits up, and somehow looks adorable even with red eyes and a runny nose.   
“You’re right. There’s nothing I can do, but there’s still that.” They sit in silence for a few long seconds and then Callie sniffs and reaches for her underwear.  
“Does this mean I’m your prison wife?”   
Alex laughs out loud, “Yeah, definitely.”   
Callie smiles and stands up, offering Alex a hand.  
“Good.”


End file.
